


Catharsis

by Jenovahh



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Patch 5.3: Reflections in Crystal Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-17
Updated: 2020-08-17
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:07:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25957222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jenovahh/pseuds/Jenovahh
Summary: Sometimes it is hard to let go.A love letter to a certain Ascian.
Relationships: Solus zos Galvus | Emet-Selch & Warrior of Light
Comments: 4
Kudos: 43





	Catharsis

She wonders if they’re envious, jealous even the tiniest bit.

 _It is still too soon_ , A’yana thinks. It takes nothing but a thought to let the flow of aether spin around her and transport her to the First if she so wished; but she is feeling nostalgic today.

Is it nostalgia? It feels worse than nostalgia.

She fingers the gear in her pocket, feels how it has slowly worn and grown smooth with her constant fumbling with it. Just holding it in her hand no longer takes her back to that other world; only by pure will alone can she whisk herself away.

And so she does.

The magic, _the Exarch’s magic_ , that's still so familiar picks her up and spirits her across both time and space, replacing the warm comfort of her cottage to the cool crystal of the Ocular.

She didn’t want her return to be known. Didn’t want to make the people wonder why she was back so soon, to make them worry and question if some tragedy had befallen the Source, if her friends hadn’t made it safely back home. She wants them to forget. For her and the Scions to become memories, to ease the pain of knowing they will never see them again. The Ocular is still safe, the memory of the Exarch still too painful for Lyna or anyone else to return to.

Would that A’yana could learn from their example.

It is with that in mind she reaches out into the aether, reaches toward the Macarenses Angle, envisioning the city in her mind. On her next inhalation, the salty tang of the ocean fills her, though the water has long since been gone. Idly, she wonders if water will ever return to this place, if there is any undoing their disruptiveness. All things considered the Ondo took the uprooting of their very way of life relatively well, after a few favors, of course.

Breathing it in, A’yana wonders still how long the city will remain. _If_ it will remain. Was the city not comprised of _his_ own aether? Of something of himself? Would it be like any other failed nation, its towering spires and crowded walkways an echo of what once was, slowly giving way to time?

A’yana’s eyes burn at the notion, causing her to quickly abandon that train of thought. Reaching into her pack, she pulls out a horn, pressing the narrowest end to her lips and blowing loudly. After a beat, a gwiber swoops to land near her, its dark, obsidian scales glimmering even in the murky light. Petting it affectionately, she still questions its loyalty, though her heart knows the answer. It had showed up not too long after she had defeated him, following her nigh everywhere until she finally accepted it as her own.

Climbing atop its back, she grabs hold of the reins, giving them a fierce flick to urge the beast to take off into the sky. Dark magic surrounds it as its amethyst wings beat, carrying them higher in the tall city.

She flies with no destination in mind, merely wanting to glide past the sturdy brick, the immaculate glass. Even though she had never seen the original with her _own_ eyes, not in this life at least, she still can tell that he had an eye for detail. Someone who lived as lavishly as he did, who built nations as great and prosperous as his home, would spare nothing.

If only, she could have spared him.

Some nights he haunts her nightmares, nightmares new and old. After learning her title, she has dreams, or perhaps visions, maybe even _memories_ of her past life. Sometimes they are happy; glimpses of meeting new people, seeing strange places. Trying new things. Other times, they are filled with despair and woe, of the panic of not feeling she is going far enough, flying fast enough, looking deep enough on how to save their star--

A tear escapes its confines from the corner of her eye and she reaches up to gently dab at it. It would be those nights as well where the tears would come forth, her face streaked with the salty tracks upon her waking. She would lie there, staring at nothing as she would process this assault of new information, and that with each waking moment, her decisions felt like the wrong ones.

Her gwiber yelps suddenly, though it doesn’t seem to be in any visible pain. Petting it gently, A’yana holds the reigns tight as the gwiber suddenly veers downward, her heart stuttering in her chest, because while she is powerful, she is not immortal, and still susceptible to death from great heights. Clinging tight, the dragon-like creature begins to slow its descent, coming to a near halt as it comes before the great metal doors of one of the buildings. They open slowly before her, the gwiber landing gently on the pristine flooring before shaking roughly as if to throw her off.

“Hey, hey!” A’yana huffs, getting the message. She dismounts as best she can. “What’s gotten into you?!” She grumbles, stamping her foot. Rearranging the skirts of her dress to be more presentable, she crosses her arms across her chest. Despite the scantiness of her robes that are not unlike the Night's Blessed, she doesn't feel the chill of the ocean floor. “I have the mind to never call upon you again, you know.”

“Is that how you treat all things that do not act as you wish?”

Her heart stops.

 _It can’t be_.

She doesn’t want to hope. Doesn’t want it to be true.

And yet a part of her so badly wishes that it is true, that it _is_ him, that she’s not finally gone off the deep end--

“ _Really, hero_. I go through the trouble of meeting you here and you cannot even turn around to greet me?”

Turn she does, so fast she trips over her skirts, her hands barely making it out in front of her in time to brace her fall. The floor is hard, and there’s a joke somewhere of how hard she fell for him, but she’s not ready to believe yet, she’s not ready, she’s not ready--

Her sapphire eyes see the edge of a black robe as it comes to a stop before her, her curly hair falling from her face as she tilts her head to look at the Amaurotine before her. To the naked eye, it looks just like any of the other apparitions that haunt these streets. Like every other conjured memory in this forgotten city. But to her…

Gods, above.

His golden eyes twinkle in her mind.

“Well? I cannot very well help you up, hero. ‘Tis plain to see I cannot even fashion the strength to assume the form you are so familiar with.” The Amaurotine scoffs, crossing their arms. They’re as tall as any other specter walking the halls, and you feel as small before him now as you did when you last saw him.

Pushing herself up to her feet, A’yana stares high up into the blank, but red mask of the ghost staring back at her. As she dusts off her brown skin, her words feel caught in her throat. There’s so much she wants to say. So much she wants to ask.

“Could you shrink, please?”

The Amaurotine stares back with a blank expression, and though it cannot emote anything else, she feels it nonetheless. An overexaggerated sigh meets her furry ears before a single hand raises up skyward, fingers brought together and--

_Snap!_

Before her eyes the shade is nearly her size now, as about as tall as a male Au’ra. Still big compared to someone as small in stature as her, but at least now she doesn’t feel like she could literally fit in the palm of his hand. Her lip trembles as the Amaurotine eases into a telltale slouch, one so familiar that she would’ve recognized it anywhere, even with her eyes closed. And she does close her eyes, and…

Golden eyes glitter, looking tired as ever, but relieved. Relaxed. _Unburdened_. Golden amulets and emblems sparkle on a lavish robe of Garlean origin, one so fancy, surely he must be nobility. Surely he is--

“Emet-Selch,” A’yana chokes out, tears flowing forth from her closed eyes.

“Now, now hero. Did I not reveal to you my true name when we last met?” He sighs once more, though it holds an amused tone. “You would do well to not bawl in my presence, when no one else is around to dry your tears.”

Nodding furiously, she wipes at her eyes with the same vigor, uncaring how she must look. Can he see how her heart leaps for him? How happy she is despite her tears? "Hades," she breathes, with so much reverence she can see him visibly recoil in surprise.

His Amaurotine body lifts both hands up, shrugging just as he does, shaking his head. "Come now. One would think you missed me despite being the one to put white auracite through my chest."

A'yana's lip quivers before she finds her words. "I have been filled with nothing but regret." She admits, the silence hanging between them. Hollow eyes stare back at her, revealing nothing.

"The truth is a heavy burden to bear." He states, a mote of pity in his tone. Taking a step closer to her, she watches as he reaches out, and gasps as she can feel his spectral hand touch her face. With delicate touch he gently closes her eyelids, giving her the vision of him once more.

"I thought you said this form wasn’t corporeal," she whimpers, her heart aching.

"Did I?" he teases, wiping at her tears. "Forgive me. I had only assumed such."

"I think you just like seeing me cry over you," She chokes out, unable to stop the waterworks.

"Quite the opposite. Unfortunately, sundered though you are, I've had quite the soft spot for you. Though when I lived, it felt akin to a thorn in my side." He chuckles catching each tear on his finger. "Though I must ask you dry your tears. I'd rather not spend my time here watching you weep."

Nodding, A'yana brings her hands up to dab at her eyes a bit more gently this time, reaching into her robes for a handkerchief to make herself more presentable. Once done, she takes a deep breath and stares at him through her closed eyes, taking him in. He looks just as she remembers, but how could he not?

"Well, if you are quite finished, shall we walk?" He offers his elbow, ever the gentleman. She tucks her hand in the crook of it, paying no mind to how it is somehow warm. She has no worry that he will lead her astray, or somehow betray her. Not after what he had done for her. For this shard and so many others.

She can hear the great doors open as he leads her outside, the salty air filling her sensitive nostrils. Her tail sways low, but excitedly, betraying her mood despite her passive face. She realizes only now how fully she trusts him; how much she has trusted him. “While I have always tried to set a stellar example but I would’ve thought you’d have learned from my mistakes.”

Her brow furrows in confusion. “Your mistakes?”

He pauses their strides for but a moment. “Your regret, hero.”

A’yana has nothing to say to that. “I...after Elidibus, I just,” She can’t find the words. Her throat tightens, her heart clenches. There’s so many things she feels, so many, and yet she cannot give them form somehow. “I wish I had known more.” She sighs, defeated.

Emet-Selch raises a strong eyebrow at her as he continues their walk. “And what would you have done if you had?”

She worries her lip, once again speechless.

“Would you have convinced your Scions we were worth sparing? Convinced an entire fragmented world that our lives were worth living? Our cause just?” He scoffs, giving a shake of his hair. “Clearly you learned nothing from Elidibus.”

“I did!” A’yana bites back, giving him a harsh shove. “I learned who I am, who I was,” She begins, her fists clenched, shaking at her sides. “I learned of his sorrow, of what I was to him, to _you_ ,” She’s losing her grip fast, her knees crumbling before her as tears well in her eyes. “I learned...I learned…” Her face breaks up more as she looks at him with her soul, seeing the pity in his eyes. “Don’t look at me that way,”

“Hero.” He utters the title with such care, the syllables having lost the vitriol he gave it when he was living. He kneels before her, hand outstretched with a clean handkerchief. “It seems that you have been holding in too much for too long.” He murmurs, watching as she furiously wipes at her eyes. “Your Scions; do they not offer you comfort?”

“How could they understand?” She laughs bitterly. “I sound like you now.”

“Hardly, hero.” He pulls her up to stand on wobbly feet, tucking her arm back in his elbow a bit tighter this time.

They continue to walk in silence as she calms down, until her nose dries up and eyes no longer water. If she works hard enough, she can see the city in her mind, envision that they walk down its roads arm and arm together. “You loved me, didn’t you?”

“Perhaps.” Emet-Selch answers vaguely, a note of amusement to his voice. “Your seat was one that had always fascinated me and you, fascinated me even more. You had the hearts of many in your pocket.” He laughs, clearly lost in the memory. “Many a suitor asked for your hand anytime you returned from your time away.”

“And...did you love me? When you were here?”

He doesn’t answer as readily this time, his steps slowing. “As best as I was able.” He answers truthfully. “To elaborate, because you certainly will ask,” he bemoans as she gives him a smack on his arm, “You are _you_ , but you are not who you once were.”

“You mean...I am the bearer of that soul but...I am not the person I once was?”

“There are differences,” he begins, stopping beneath a lavender tree. “Some so small that it gave me absurd instances of deja vu, and some so great it was a wonder you could share the same soul at all.” He looks so at peace, no longer tempered, no longer driven by duty. _Almost a different man entirely_ , she thinks to herself, gazing up into the tree alongside him in her mind’s eye.

The lavender calms her, soothes her already frazzled nerves. They stand there beneath the tree, time passing at a snail’s pace, but passing nonetheless. “I have so much I want to ask.” She whispers, suddenly shy.

“Then ask.” He responds simply, gazing up into the trees. The light of the city accentuates how handsome he is, and you are sure he knows it. “Use your right words.”

“Why did you...save me?” She asks, desperate to know the answer. The past few days she could do nothing but toss and turn as she speculated about his intervention, with the Scions only providing slivers of insight. And though some of them may have been right, she found herself longing to ask him herself.

“And why shouldn’t I have?” He counters, releasing her to go slouch against the tree’s broad trunk.

“Elidibus could’ve overwhelmed me. Killed me. Delivered the salvation he sought,” She takes a deep breath to keep her emotions steady. “He would have won, and in time, succeeded with the Ardor. The Rejoining,”

“Do you think your Mother would not have fashioned yet another champion?” He interrupts, leveling her with a serious look. “Given up on your soul, so strong after so many rejoinings already?”

Pursing her lips, she thinks on it for a moment. “But Elidibus,”

“You saw him.” He cuts her off once again, his expression unchanged. “Your little Scions, Y’shtola was it, had the right of it. After so many millenia, even my memories had become so watered down, mere farces of what they once were. But by His will, did I push myself forward. It had warped us all. Lahabrea, formerly so articulate and calculating, brought down by a mortal wearing the skin of a primal. Hopping from body to body, his passion had warped into him overworking himself, leading to his demise.”

He stands to full height now, approaching her with measured steps. “I, personally, had lost sight as well. I could not deal with my grief and it eventually warped me, just as it had my brother.” His tone is harsh but pleading. “You saw him, Hero. Saw how Elidibus could not even remember, what I bade _you_ to remember.” Coming to a stop before her, he takes her chin in hand, tilting it up toward him. “Why would I leave my brother to suffer alone?”

A’yana gasps, the shock of his statement making her eyelids open as her eyes go wide, face to face with the Amaurotine shade and not the Garlean visage she held in her mind. Closing them once more, she whimpers. “So you,”

“I aided you, to end his suffering. To bring him _home_.” He breathes, wiping at the silent tears on her face with his own hands. “No one save you could have ended our plight. To free us from an eons worth of duty, hero. In saving you, I had saved Elidibus.”

She feels his thumb graze across her quivering bottom lip. “Is he...is he okay?”

She hears him scoff, but his lips curl into a smile. “Really now, are you incapable of thinking of yourself for but one moment?” He laughs, wiping at more tears. “We’ve already cemented the fact that you leak more than a faucet.”

A’yana does laugh then, a smile breaking out on her face. It is a strange laugh, bittersweet in its nature as he dries her puffy eyes. She will have to rest later, once she returns home. Though he has not answered her directly, she can tell what his answer is in what he has not said. “I am glad.” With a light huff, his other hand comes to wrap around her and pull her close, his body somehow feeling warm as well. “Will this be the last I see of you?”

“Perhaps,” he offers vaguely once more. She rests his head just below his chest, hugging her arms tightly around him. “As much as I have enjoyed my rest, you are far too entertaining to leave alone for too long, sweet hero.”

She promises to not cry again, willing the tears back in her eyes. “Then _perhaps_ I will look forward to your next visit.” She teases, to which he gives a genuine laugh.

“Who knows when that will be, dear hero.” He parts with her just far enough to tilt her head toward him again, gazing deep into his topaz eyes. “We have entrusted this star to you. You must protect it, without fail.”

She nods, leaning into his hand. “There was never another option.”

“Good.” He bends down to place his lips to her forehead, placing a kiss there. “Do not let me down.”

When she opens her eyes, the shade is gone, the gwiber in its place. It gives a curious warble, giving its wings a shake as it pads toward her on its hind legs. Nudging its head under her hands, it chirrups happily, causing her to giggle as well. “I’m sorry for earlier.” She murmurs, giving an affectionate rub to its horns. “Shall we go home?”

The gwiber chirps happily as she climbs atop its back, grabbing hold of the reins. With a quick flick it takes off, ascending slowly toward the coastal shelf. As the city lights twinkle behind her, she does not look back.

She looks forward.

**Author's Note:**

> I have a lot of feeling about 5.3 okay


End file.
